Whiskey Frisky

Part One

Seth had seen all manner of odd and unusual people from behind the counter of Whiskey Frisky. They had a reputation of stocking the most bizarre products you could find from any sex store in California, and yet despite being situated in the central hub of Hollywood Boulevard, business was always slow. On this particular day, Seth had found himself paused in time, a spoonful of his dangerously sugary cereal raised to his lips and dripping into his lap. His eyes were locked, paralysed even, on the hypnotically grotesque butt crack of the hairiest man he had ever seen. The stranger was perched precariously on the balls of his swollen feet, bent over a shelf of what folks in the biz affectionately called 'pussy pockets'. Every bead of sweat rolling into the rotund man's cavernous, moist crease was another reason for Seth to not finish feeding himself the breakfast treat pressed to his lips.

'Gross,' he groaned as his legs slid from the counter, jolting him back to reality.

There was one other customer in the store, lingering by the corner and palming through the sleeves of roleplay costumes. She had picked one out and had it tucked under her arm; judging by the splash of purple across the front it was the Barney one.

Yep, that's Barney the Dinosaur alright. There's something for everyone at Whiskey Frisky, or so they would have you believe. The tall woman was mouthing along to the old pop jam blasting from the speakers— Whitney Houston's 'I wanna dance with somebody'—but kept throwing anxious glances up at Seth from over the shelves, something any other store clerk may have found suspicious, but within these walls shame or embarrassment were all too easy to spot.

'Just this one.'

The man's gravelly voice gave Seth his second shock in less than a minute and he swivelled in his chair to see the hairy man had finally made his pick. He slapped a pink box onto the counter and dropped a handful of sweat glazed coins beside it with a musical clatter of metal on wood.

'Would you like a bag?' Seth said, hesitantly scooping the coins into his hand and dropping them into the register as if they were burning his palm.

'Nah,' the man replied. He noisily sucked back god knows what in his throat and collected his 'Martha's Magical Vibrating Muff 240' with disturbing enthusiasm.

'Have a nice day,' Seth mumbled half-heartedly, watching his only two customers exit the store into the blinding light of what was probably a very beautiful Saturday evening.

He had planned to spend the weekend knee deep in saltwater and sand, scoping out LA's most physically gifted from behind the safety of a pair of reflective sunglasses. Instead he was here, keeping Hollywood's not-so-gifted stocked up on vibrators and fleshlights. At the very least he could treat himself to a smoke break.

'Yo, Zel,' Seth called. Nothing, not even a shuffle in response from the back room. The old man was probably asleep. He was damn near nocturnal, but then who wasn't in this city.